


The Dark Side Of The Sun

by Laurelin (Lintelomiel)



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ardor in August, Gen, Gift Fic, Life Lessons, Lothlórien, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Third Age, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:06:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2031342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lintelomiel/pseuds/Laurelin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the future of Lórien is threatened, Haldir takes a desperate gamble to salvage the one thing his people cannot afford to lose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark Side Of The Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marchwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marchwriter/gifts).



> I'm humbly offering this to Marchwriter, who requested Lothlórien during the time of its Sorrows, strong characters fighting against impossible odds, and lots of internal/external conflict. I considered many different scenarios and angles before eventually running with this one. I aimed for a higher rating, but the elves had other plans. I hope it pleases all the same!

_[...] Amroth and Nimrodel held a long debate; and at last they plighted their troth, "To this I will be true," she said, "and we shall be wedded when you bring me to a land of peace." Amroth vowed that for her sake he would leave his people, even in their time of need, and with her seek for such a land._ (excerpt from _Unfinished Tales_ , 'The History of Galadriel and Celeborn')

*

"Gone?" The word rang hollow, flat, insignificant, yet even as he said it, Haldir's heart plummeted in his chest like a bird struck down in flight by an arrow. "What do you mean, gone?" 

Rúmil pulled up his shoulders in a helpless shrug. Underneath several days' worth of soot and grime, his face was pallid and marked by the recent tribulations. He looked worry-worn and aged. _And I can't be looking much better,_ Haldir thought. "We don't know where he is, Haldir. He is not among the wounded or the bodies recovered so far, and no one has seen him since we started the evacuations. He is not someone who can go unnoticed for very long, as you know. If he was anywhere near here, fighting or putting out fires, he would have been seen by many eyes. He is gone, I tell you; fallen victim to the flames or fled, mayhap, as so many have done already." 

"Fled?" Frustration and weariness made Haldir lash out at the bearer of these ill tidings. "Have you forgotten whom we are speaking of, brother? Do not let me hear such blasphemy coming from your mouth again." 

Rúmil sighed and distractedly pushed a singed braid behind his ear. "The truth of his fate will come to us in due time, I suppose. For now, it looks like we are going to have to survive this day without his help. I am sorry, Haldir." 

"It isn't your fault. I know you did your best." Haldir rubbed his eyes. Like his throat, they were dry and stinging from the smoke. Everything about him was rank with the potent smell of burnt wood and ash; he even tasted it on his tongue. "Do you have some water left?" 

"Just a few drops. Take it." Rúmil gave Haldir his flask and looked around in desperation. "What are you going to do?" 

Haldir gave no answer. He took a small sip of tepid water, just enough to moisten his tongue, and swished it around in his mouth thoughtfully. The two brothers were standing in the charred and abandoned ruins of Cerin Amroth, once the beating heart of Lothlórien but now completely reduced to ashes. It was the heartwrenching conclusion of a dark chapter in Lórien's history, one that had begun with the rise of an unspeakable evil in Moria, a few weeks earlier. The mountain-dwelling dwarves were no friends to the Galadhrim, but at least they brought stability to the region. Now that they were gone, different orc tribes were fighting each other for supremacy of the mountain realm-- and Lothlórien had the misfortune of being on Moria's very doorstep. War had come to the once peaceful woods and with it, axes and torches. The Galadhrim had been able to fight back the ill-organized bands of orcs for now, but the flames proved a far more formidable foe. To make matters worse, it was the dry season; the trees and houses of Cerin Amroth had been engulfed in a matter of minutes. Many Geledhil had escaped with only the clothes on their back, and they had been the lucky ones. The screams and wailing of the dying were now forever embedded in Haldir's psyche. And the heat-- that terrible scorching heat. He would never forget it. 

With a weeping heart, he gazed around at the unrecognizable remains of Lórien's capital and wished he could lay down, close his eyes and sleep a long, dreamless sleep. Children had played here only two days ago, and now there was nothing left but death. In all his travels, Haldir had never seen a place so bereft of life, so eerily quiet. Even to him, who knew the resilience of nature, it seemed unlikely that birds and land creatures would ever nest here again. And his kinsmen-- where would they go? Who would lead them, help them, give them hope? 

"What of the maid?" he asked Rúmil as he gave back the flask. "Has anyone seen her since all this began?" 

"Scouts were sent to her house." Rúmil shrugged. "She was not there, Haldir. The talan is untouched by fire, but inside everything was chaos. Orcs must have found the place and raided it for valuables." 

"Do you think the creatures took her?" 

"Hard to say." Rúmil bit his lip, his brow sporting a pensive frown. "I suppose they could have. She lived there all alone, after all. Alone and unprotected." 

"Or she left by choice." Haldir's skin prickled; it was as if a window had just opened in his mind, causing the fog of exhaustion to disperse somewhat. Suddenly he was sure that he was on the right track. "She could be the key, Rúmil. It is too much of a coincidence that they are both missing. He may have left to look for her." 

"You could be right, but what good will it do us? He could be miles away by now, and we don't know in which direction he went. Put him out of your mind, Haldir, and let us turn our thoughts to getting through this crisis. Cerin Amroth is lost, but we may still hope to save the forest and secure our future." 

"You can stay here and join one of the fire brigades." Knowing what had to be done replenished Haldir's energy. It was a good feeling; he had felt helpless for far too long. "I am going beyond the borders, to look for him myself." 

Rúmil grasped his brother's arm, eyes wide in warning. "Haldir, no, I believe that is a big mistake. You could waste weeks searching for him, and it is not safe out there." 

Haldir responded with a sad smile. "There are no safe places anymore, Rúmil. But you need not worry, I will return." 

"That is not a promise you can make." Rúmil squeezed Haldir's arm with more emphasis. "If something happens to you, and mother finds out I didn't stand in your way, I'll never hear the end of it. Please, Haldir, reconsider. We need you here, we need all hands to get those fires under control." 

Firmly but calmly, Haldir replied, "And when we do get them under control, when we overcome this crisis, will we not need someone to lead us, to unite us once more? He must be found, Rúmil. Who knows what state he is in? He could be wandering in shock somewhere, he could be injured or captured by the enemy." 

"You are clutching at straws, brother, and you cannot see it." Rúmil shook his head. "But you always were a stubborn fool, so I expect you will go through with this no matter what I say." 

Haldir patted his brother's hand before gently removing it from his arm. "If mother asks, tell her you didn't see me leave. I will take a horse if I can find one, to cover more ground. If I find no sign of him in three days, I'll abandon the search." 

"You shouldn't be out there by yourself. Let me come with you." 

"No, Rúmil, I will be faster on my own. Stay here, where you will be of more use." 

"Ironically, I could say the same to you." Rúmil's mouth twitched. "Very well, Haldir, you will have your three days. If you are not back by then I will have no choice but to come looking for you, and believe me, I'll not be in a good mood when I do." 

Haldir gave a short, dry chuckle. He was Rúmil's elder by almost two hundred years, but after the events of recent days, somehow that age difference didn't seem so significant anymore. "Don't worry. If I return unsuccessful, as I probably will, I will fully acknowledge that you were right and I was wrong." 

"I'd be glad to be wrong. But before you go, Haldir, I need you to answer one question truthfully." 

Haldir turned back when he saw something resembling concern in Rúmil's eyes. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. 

"Whom are you doing this for?" Rúmil held Haldir's gaze, unblinking. "I need to know that you are doing this for the right reasons. Because if not, I fear your search will end in more than disappointment for you." 

Haldir lowered his eyes and kept them lowered as he replied, "I know what you fear, Rúmil, but my reasons are unselfish. My heart is not at risk here." 

"I hope that is the truth." Rúmil brought two fingers to his lips, kissed the tips and pressed them briefly to Haldir's forehead. "Go with the blessing of the Valar, brother. May they guide you and the king safely home-- wherever that home may be from now on." 

***

_For Haldir, the line between duty and desire, loyalty and longing, serving and suffering had always been blurred. Balancing on that line, swaying back and forth between those conflicting extremes-- that was how he lived his life. It had become second nature to him.  
_

_As a warden of Lórien, he was part of the elite force that patrolled and protected the borders of the wood, the first line of defence. It was a position that came with a certain amount of prestige, but status was the least of Haldir's interests. His pride lay fully in the honour of serving Amroth, lord of tree and glen, who had risen to the challenges of kingship under the hardest of circumstances. His father, Amdír, was slain in the early days of the war against Sauron, a devastating war that lasted for years and claimed many lives. It was at that time, when morale was low and the hope of a good outcome all but crushed, that the young prince stepped out of his father's shadow and took his place at the helm with confidence and grace. He became a leader-- kind, strong, charismatic. His transformation made a lasting impression on everyone, including Haldir. As one of the youngest soldiers to have responded to Amdír's call to arms, he saw in Amroth the embodiment of courage, honour and yes, beauty. He did not fully understand the feelings of admiration and desire stirring within him, but he did not attempt to resist them. He even nurtured them, because the fire in his blood strengthened his arm, made him more deadly. It helped him to survive.  
_

_In those days of war, Amroth was often seen together with the son of that other fallen king, Oropher. The two former princes, now kings, gravitated towards one another, perhaps because they had much in common and shared similar fates. It was whispered that away from the public eye, the two frequently had physical relations, as is common among soldiers in wartime. Haldir did not doubt the truth in these rumours, and he came to hate the Greenwood Sinda for it. Thranduil was a riddle; cold, distant and changeable as the moon, with one side of him always hidden in shadows. Amroth on the other hand was warm and radiant like the sun, emanating a light that was all his own.  
_

_It was one of his life's blessings that Haldir was allowed to bask in that light often. Acknowledging that he showed great promise on the battlefield, his superiors soon recommended him for a higher position, which inevitably meant: a position closer to the king. By the end of the war, he had earned a place in the king's guard. The journey home was one of triumph dulled by grief for the many lives lost, but to Haldir the future looked bright. He was alive and he had a promising career ahead of him, one he could devote to serving a worthy king.  
_

_In his heart, though, slumbered a seed of doubt, a reminder that his motives were not all pure. He chose to ignore it, and for a while that worked. Lórien flourished and prospered under Amroth's rule, and Haldir worked hard, solidifying his place in the king's inner circle. He was not his closest confidant, nor his friend, but Amroth knew his worth, valued his opinion and turned to him for advice on more than one occasion. Haldir always remained formal, always showed his sovereign the respect that was owed. He was sure that no one except Rúmil knew of the secret flame that burned within him. Orophin, a lad barely past his first century, was still unaware and Haldir had no intention of changing that.  
_

_Thranduil, of course, had gone north to rule his own kingdom and eventually wedded a Silvan beauty who gave him three noble sons over the years. Amroth was still unwedded, and although Haldir had no knowledge of the content of the kings' letters to one another, he was sure that Thranduil had - intentionally or not - encouraged his old friend to start a family of his own. After all, what is a king without heirs?  
_

_To Haldir's dismay, Amroth had begun courting Nimrodel, a choice that seemed odd to many people. She was a fair maiden and a gentle soul, but she was commonly thought of as strange because she chose to live a solitary life by the river, out of sight and generally out of mind. She kept strictly to the Silvan ways of old and spoke no Sindarin, which made communication difficult. But Amroth persisted in pursuing her, lavishing her with gifts. The fact that she was utterly unfit to become queen of the Galadhrim seemed lost on him, and his advisors' cautioning words fell on deaf ears. Amroth had chosen his bride, and the more marriage proposals she refused, the more determined he became to win her favour. The discontent among the Galadhrim grew, as the king's distraction was to the detriment of the whole realm.  
_

_Haldir had never spoken out against the courtship, although he would have given his frank opinion if Amroth had asked for it. But the whole affair disgusted him, and for years he had looked on idly while the pedestal on which he had placed the king began to show cracks. Part of that disgust was directed at himself, for the king's lovesickness was nothing if not a confrontational mirror image of Haldir's own pathetic infatuation. Slowly but surely, the sun he so worshipped was losing its lustre, and it was a painful realization.  
_

_But the world was on fire, and the people needed a strong leader now more than ever. Despite any misgivings he may have had in the past, Haldir knew there was really only one who could fulfil that role, only one who could guide Lórien through this crisis, and he was inexplicably absent. Haldir was not willing to accept that.  
_

_No more gritting teeth and standing by. Only decisive action would save Lórien now._

*** 

Speed was of the essence. To find Amroth, Haldir knew he could not afford to rely on his tracking skills alone-- he would also have to trust his instinct and pray for a little bit of luck. Above all he had to think rationally, to try and get inside Amroth's head and find the logic behind his disappearance. When the orcs first attacked, Amroth had led the counter charge; many had seen him fighting at the forefront of battle. But once the enemy had been forced into retreat, his thoughts would inevitably have turned towards Nimrodel. She was alone, isolated and vulnerable, so Amroth's first priority would be to ensure her safety. Had he gone to her house? Had he found it abandoned, her possessions violated? Up until here, Haldir could picture the scene quite clearly; he could imagine the king's rage and despair at finding his beloved gone. What had happened next was less certain, but Haldir knew that he had to follow Nimrodel's trail, because that was what Amroth would have done. 

Upon reflection, Haldir decided it was unlikely the orcs had abducted Nimrodel. Why would they? Orcs had an innate disgust for the Fair Folk, and an elf maid was of no use to them. Orcs were crude beasts, not sophisticated villains. When something stood in their way, they simply killed it and moved on. It seemed more feasible that Nimrodel had fled in distress the moment she realized Lórien was under attack. Where would a lone, scared elleth look for safety? Not at Cerin Amroth, where sharp steel and searing flame wreaked so much havoc. No, she would have turned from everything that presented danger and run in the exact opposite direction, away from Moria, away from the inferno. The more Haldir thought about it, the clearer one name came into focus: Fangorn. It was the only place of refuge within reach for a defenceless girl on the run, the only place that offered the shelter and security of trees, about a day's walk from Lórien's southern border. 

It was still a gamble, but it was the only gamble Haldir felt confident taking, the only one he knew he wouldn't regret even if it did turn out to be the wrong choice. He said a quick prayer and spurred on his horse, setting off on a straight south-east course that might just allow him to intercept the missing lovers before they disappeared into the vast, tangled labyrinth that was Fangorn. He could only hope that Amroth was on foot and that he had the advantage of speed. 

Even though he hadn't slept in days, Haldir allowed himself no rest. He made only one or two brief stops to let the horse drink and gather some berries for himself, because other than a flask of water, he had brought only a meagre supply of lembas to sustain him. But he felt no hunger or exhaustion; his sense of purpose and urgency drove him forward, because to find the king was to save Lórien. That thought was what kept him on his horse, hour after hour, mile after mile. Soon he left the Naith behind him, forded the Celebrant and continued on at a relentless gallop, knowing that he would soon reach the perimeter of the elves' territory, the place where the forest gave way to open plains. Once he left the trees behind, he would be more easily detected by enemy eyes, but he was fully armed and willing to take on any foe that stood between him and his goal. 

The sun was at its peak when Haldir reached the outposts, and he paused a moment to take in the empty stretch of land before him, with the dark tops of Fangorn Forest just barely discernible on the horizon. He hadn't seen a living soul since he left Cerin Amroth, as all the men who usually guarded this border had pulled back to support their brothers. Lórien was under attack from many sides, but not from the south. 

Haldir pressed on, keeping to his chosen course but at a slower pace. His eyes scanned the horizon continuously until they burned from the strain, but he saw only grass, grass that yielded absolutely no clues as to who might have passed this way recently. But there was no room for doubt; he had to keep going forward, had to believe that his gamble would pay off in the end. 

But the exhaustion and the heat were starting to take their toll. After several hours of riding under the blistering sun, he had to take a few moments' rest in the shadow of a solitary tree. He knew he would not encounter a water source between here and Fangorn, so he let the foaming horse drink a little water from his cupped hand and quenched his own thirst somewhat by sucking on a few berries. He tried not to look behind him, but the billows of dark smoke rising from the canopies of Lórien were impossible to ignore. The sight only added to his urgency, and within minutes he was on the move again, wishing he could make the distance between himself and Fangorn shrink faster. 

"Amroth." He cleared his throat and tried to produce some saliva to moisten his parched tongue. "Amroth!" 

He rode another hour or two, shouting Amroth's name every so often. Sometimes he stopped his horse and gazed around, cupping his hands in front of his mouth as he called again and again until his voice gave out. Other than startling a few birds, his shouting accomplished nothing. A few times, he thought he saw something moving in the distance, but once he came closer, there was nothing there. He wondered if he was starting to hallucinate. 

To his left, the trees of Fangorn loomed gradually larger, the only indication that he was making some form of progress. Haldir reminded himself that he had faced far greater challenges than this, but despite everything, doubt was creeping in. Had he made a mistake? Should he have listened to Rúmil? His horse, however brave, almost stumbled once or twice; he would have to let it rest soon. 

But then, finally, a fleck on the horizon that didn't disappear as he approached. Someone was walking there, a tall, all-too familiar figure with golden hair. A broad smile of relief spread over Haldir's face as he raised one arm in the air. This time, the call rang out loud and clear. "Amroth! Lórien!" 

Amroth spun around, blade raised, but when he saw who was approaching, he lowered his arm. He looked bewildered, almost wary. "Haldir? What are you doing here?" 

"Looking for you, my lord." Haldir slid from his horse's back and bowed, one fist pressed to his chest. 

"On whose authority?" 

"My own." Haldir's smile wavered somewhat. "We need you, sire. Cerin Amroth is completely destroyed, and the fire is still spreading, although the brigades are working hard to get it under control. Many of our people have fled. We have lost our homes, our livestock, everything. We need you to lead us." 

As he spoke, Haldir realized that Amroth's eyes were avoiding his. The king looked guilty, almost repentant. It was a strange and discomfiting thing to see. "I... I cannot," Amroth said haltingly. "Nimrodel, she... she ran away. I must find her." 

"I will find her for you," Haldir said at once. "I will protect her and bring her home once it is safe. I promise you nothing will happen to her." 

Amroth shook his head, still looking down at the ground. Haldir's insistence seemed torture to him. "I cannot accept that, Haldir. I trust you fully, but Nimrodel trusts only me. Please, turn back. Lórien needs you." 

"Lórien needs its king." Haldir's tone was sharper than intended. "We need you now more than ever. Please, my lord. Go to the people who love you and give them comfort." 

"I cannot!" Amroth exclaimed in a strangled voice, startling Haldir with his outburst. For a moment, there was a wild look in his eyes. "Nimrodel, I must find Nimrodel. Without her I am nothing." 

"Then let us search for her together. The sooner we find her, the sooner we can return home." Haldir felt as though he were reasoning with a defiant child, and his patience was swiftly running out. This was all wrong; he should not have to beg like this. He should not have the remind the king of his duty. Then, suddenly, a terrible suspicion sank in. "My lord... you do intend to return, do you not?"

When Amroth didn't respond, Haldir felt numb, but only for a few moments. Disbelief and rage were quick to take over. "Are you thinking of leaving? For good? You cannot mean that. Not at a time like this!" 

"I do not wish to leave," Amroth replied sadly. "But if Nimrodel asks it of me, I must." 

Haldir could not believe his ears. He could not believe that the pitiful, stammering creature in front of him was the once proud king he had revered for so long. Disappointment rose like bile in his throat, but he swallowed it. Anger would serve him much better. He pointed at the towering plume of smoke behind him. "Look!" he said. "Look at your kingdom. Your people are suffering in there. And yet you would abandon us for... for _her_? Have you no honour?" 

"I am sorry," Amroth said, slowly backing away. "I wish I could be the hero you need me to be, but I can't. Lórien will endure without me. You think I am indispensable, but the truth is, someone will stand up and take my place. But Nimrodel needs me. If I don't protect her, no one will." 

Haldir's face twisted in disgust. All dams were broken now, and his frustration came pouring out at full force. "And whose fault is that? If she had asked for protection, we would have given it freely. But she has always rejected us, always felt she was above us. Yet you would make her queen; queen of a people she neither loves nor trusts. Do you not see how doomed this courtship was from the very beginning?" 

To Haldir's further astonishment, Amroth nodded. "This is true. Nimrodel loves me, but she never loved my crown. I have no choice but to renounce the throne; it is my only hope of winning her hand. I am sorry, I know this is not what you want to hear." 

"Spare me your apologies!" Haldir grabbed the front of Amroth's tunic with both hands, angry tears pricking at his eyes. "Damn you for this betrayal. Have you any idea how long I have looked up to you, how proud and honoured I was to serve you? I would have taken an arrow for you, as would anyone who ever fought under your command, because we thought your life was worth a thousand of ours. What am I supposed to tell them?" 

Amroth remained strangely calm. He gently removed Haldir's hands from his tunic, saying, "Tell them the truth: that I did what I had to do. I regret it has to be like this, Haldir, I truly do, but I have no choice. I must be with Nimrodel or die trying." 

It was hopeless. Haldir could shout and plead all he wanted; Amroth's calm, unshakeable determination remained undented. He sank to his knees, anger sizzling out and leaving him empty and numb. Everything he had believed in, everything he had thought of as truth-- gone. Had he ever truly known anything about the world, if it could turn upside down like this in the blink of an eye? Had he been so blinded by the radiance of the sun that he had failed to realize it had a dark side, too? 

_This will end in sorrow_. He didn't say it, but he knew it in his heart. _I will never see him again_. 

Amroth offered him a hand. Haldir took it without thinking and allowed Amroth to pull him to his feet. "I have to go back," he mumbled, "before Lórien burns to the ground." 

Amroth nodded gravely. "Farewell, Haldir. I wish you all the best." 

Haldir couldn't bring himself to return the sentiment. He took the reins of his horse, hesitated, then gave them to Amroth. The king protested, but Haldir only said, "For the lady." Then he turned away to begin the long walk back. 

"Haldir, wait." Amroth reached out and placed a hand on the young warden's shoulder. Before today, a touch like that - any touch at all - would have been warmly received, but now it left Haldir indifferent. "I can see that this is a blow to you, and I am truly sorry for it. I am sorry you had to learn this lesson the hard way." 

"What lesson?" Haldir asked in a monotone voice. 

"That no one is wholly bad or wholly good. And that everyone makes selfish choices now and then, even kings." Amroth paused. "There are no heroes, Haldir, only people trying to do the best they can. Let that be my parting advice to you. Do not look for greatness in other people; try to find it within yourself instead." 

*** 

Walking back, Haldir made a conscious effort to focus on the mechanical aspect of it and to block out all excess thought. _Just keep placing one foot in front of the other_. He did not feel. He did not think of what awaited him in Lórien. And he certainly did not think of what lay behind him. His only ambition now was to keep moving, to walk all night if necessary, but when darkness fell and the stars came out, fatigue finally overcame him. He sat down in the grass, ate a few perfunctory bites of lembas and drank the last of his water supply. A few moments later he was asleep, and despite everything that had happened, it was the dreamless sleep he had so longed for. 

When he woke up, the world was bathed in light again, and there was a face hovering above his own. He startled for a moment, but the face smiled. "Oh good, you are awake. For a moment I thought you were dead. Are you thirsty?" 

Haldir had to admit that he was, and he drank gratefully from the flask that was put against his lips. The elf who had awakened him was a fair-haired stranger, clad in unfamiliar garb. Behind him, a small distance away, waited a company of fifty, sixty, maybe seventy elven riders. None of them looked familiar, but the green banners they carried did. 

"You are a Galadhel, aren't you?" the stranger asked. "What are you doing so far from home, sleeping in the middle of a field all alone?" 

"That is a long story." Haldir sat up groggily, looking around. "I should not have slept this long. Lórien... I have to get home as soon as possible." 

"Come with us," the friendly stranger offered. "We saw smoke coming from this direction. We were sent to find out more, and to offer help if we could." 

"Help would be... much appreciated." Haldir looked at the young elf in wonder. "Who are you, stranger? And who sent you? Lórien owes them gratitude." 

"Thranduil, King of Greenwood, whom I call father." The elf smiled, and for a moment the bright morning sun seemed to grow dim. "My name is Legolas. And what is yours?"


End file.
